


Vilomah

by littlerumbird



Series: Interstellar Oceans [13]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Angst, F/M, Imzadi (Star Trek), canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24298648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlerumbird/pseuds/littlerumbird
Summary: I started watching Star Trek maybe a month ago. As in never got into any of the Star Trek series before. I was sucked immediately into Deanna Troi and her relationship with Riker and kind of sped through ALL of their significant episodes and lots of YouTube clips of Picard 1.7 "Nepenthe."  MAJOR SPOILERS for Picard 1.7 "Nepenthe," all related only to Deanna and Will's future. It's very angsty. I'm so, so soft for these two.
Relationships: William Riker/Deanna Troi
Series: Interstellar Oceans [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026340
Comments: 9
Kudos: 39





	Vilomah

Will cried when she told him that she was pregnant. He had pulled her into his arms, wrapping her close and lifting her off the floor as his lips pressed to the crown of her head. It had been late because he'd had the bridge on a night shift somewhere in the galaxy at warp gods knew what.

They had first celebrated with dinner for him and dessert for her. He had teased her about cravings. And then later they celebrated between their sheets as he mapped her curves and still slender belly. And by the end she was crying because she was so happy and he was so happy. And while things were often intense between them, this was a level she hadn't experienced or imagined before.

She missed having Beverly aboard. It struck her around her third month that Beverly hadn't been there for either of her pregnancies-- with Ian or this new baby. And while the Titan's doctor was skilled, kind even, there was something about being cared for by a dear friend that soothes more than any reassuring medical scans or hypospray ever could.

Will fussed over her in private, and privately fussed over her when they were on duty and especially on the bridge together. If they hadn't officially announced the news to their crew, it would've quickly been obvious because she could hardly stand without his hand close to guide and balance. By her fourth month she learned to appreciate it when every moment felt like a shift in her center of gravity.

He felt guilty in the last trimester when her hips ached as their child demanded more space. More than once she woke with leg cramps, and Will half mumbled his groggy apologies while his broad hand found the muscles and worked them to calm again.

Her labor was much longer and more strenuous than with Ian. More than once she wondered if it was her age or the fact that this child was three quarters human and a quarter Betazoid. Deanna wondered exactly how large of a baby Will had been. But by then the baby was crowning, and she was occupied with the intensity of the moment.

She wasn't sure, later, who cried first when their son was wrapped in a blanket and settled into her arms. Thaddeus Troi-Riker was squirming and there and perfect. Her sweet boy who had slept through the night by four months and was determined to walk by ten months but didn't figure out the mechanics and balance until thirteen months-- by which he had mastered nearly fifty first words, although "dada" was his favorite. He loved his words and the stars and lived in his own world of imagination.

They had spent Thad's last night together, their own family outdoors on blankets as stars and distant planets and constellations shone in splendor above them. Will was holding their boy, propped just so as he struggled for each breath. System after system shutting down silently with aching slowness. Deanna and Will both thought, and thousand times over, of finding some underground market. Finding that one still active positronic matrix that would have saved him. Saved their boy. It was so simple. And unreachable.

It turned them inside out to sit quietly. When Thad looked at them earlier that day. He had known he was at the end. Deanna was resting against her husband, young Kestra asleep and blissfully unaware of how their lives were changing. Unraveling. And under the stars, in his father's arms, they whispered their permission. That it was okay to go. That they loved him.

She wasn't sure who moved first from the blanket that night. Or when they cried. They woke for days and nights and all hours with tears on their cheeks and pillows. Kestra and her stuffed comfort toys were there with them.

"Where Thad!" She asked. And neither had an answer for her.

She wasn't sure which day was which. When they last ate. Every bite of their beautiful hand-grown food tasted like ash and salt. It was her grief and Will's, and Kestra's confusion and distress over both of them. And she wished she had her mother to talk to. Their friends, all light years apart. And most of all their son. She wanted their son back.

Will cried the hardest. On the anniversary of the date they'd moved to Nepenthe. It was a special day for their family. They used to spend the day walking through the woods, Thad's energy and pace slower with every year. And they would eat outdoors, roast sweet treats over the fire, and watch the sun set and the stars emerge. And Thad would tell them about his lands and his languages and beg for stores about life in Starfleet and Uncle Data and Uncle Geordi and all the others. And sometimes they would fall asleep on the blankets or on the hammock and sleep all night together.

But Will hadn't made it fully to the steps of the deck before the first sob bubbled out. She had been in the garden checking the plants when the emotion hit her. And Deanna wished she could hold him as well as he had so many times for her. Instead she sat beside him, arm around him, hardly surprised when he lay down his head in her lap and cried. It felt like they were both being turned inside out.

Her Betazoid abilities to heal her own psyche shielded her from some of it. Sometimes. And sometimes she felt guilty that she should hurt more. Many times she hurt anyway. There was grief and anger and god knew they had privately bargained. Neither of them had reached acceptance. Today hurt. For long moments she held onto her imazdi, and they both struggled to remember to breathe. Because no parent was supposed to outlive their child. Her child. Hers and Will's.

"Daddy's sad," their daughter observed, coming to join them and cuddling up against her mother's other side.

She nodded, feeling the exhaustion from the weary grind of days, weeks, and now creeping into months. "Yes, sweetheart. We miss your brother." Her own tears were falling and she let them, her hand stroking Will's back. Reassuring him that she was there. They had never hidden emotions from Kestra, and she was determined not to start now.

Kestra leaned against her and pressed a kiss to her father's graying hair. "I miss him, too."

**Author's Note:**

> Vilomah is a Sanskrit word for parents who have suffered the death of a child. It translates to "against a natural order"


End file.
